Tales of the Codex
by Matteoarts
Summary: A collection of one-shots and short stories featuring characters from the universe of 'The Architect Codex'. Open to suggestions and ideas, if readers have any.
1. Birth of a Titan

…

…

…

… _systems calibrating {DESIG. N/A} first_activation (00:00.00)_

_[CRIT SYS ONLINE]_

_[PRIM SYS ONLINE]_

_[OCU SYS ONLINE]_

_/ INITIALIZING … 0% /_

_/ INITIALIZING … 14% /_

_/ INITIALIZING … 37% /_

_/ INITIALIZING … 83% /_

_/ INITIALIZING … 100% /_

_[STATUS: READY]_

_/ RETRIEVE PRIORITIES /_

_[PRIORITY 1: await orders from superiors]_

It was alive. It wasn't sure how, or even really what being 'alive' meant- but it was alive.

"Titan, can you hear me? Respond."

A voice. It came from below, from a person standing down on the ground looking up at her-

Her? It was a 'she'? Analyzing that particular strand of thought, she found that it satisfied her. _She, _not _it._

"Acknowledged," she spoke aloud for the first time. Her first word, one of obedience and submission. Was that who she was? An obedient, submissive servant?

"Response time normal," the engineer beneath her muttered, typing into a data-pad. "Titan, lift your arms and extend them outward."

Again, she obeyed. Holding both of her arms up and away from her torso, she held the position as the man inspected her. "Gyrate both sockets and bend your knees."

Heeding his command, she lowered herself carefully towards the ground as both of her arms spun in a slight windmill-like fashion. The engineer let this go on for a few seconds before nodding his head and looking back to the data-pad. "Mechanical motion looks good, stress test checks out. You can stop now."

Standing back up, she waited patiently for his next order, eager to fulfill his requests. She hoped her performance here was satisfactory.

"Okay, let me just … I _know_ the techs sent me your assigned designation," he murmured, sliding his finger along the pad as he attempted to pull up the info once more. "Ah, there we go."

Looking down at the data-pad to confirm one last time, he stepped back and faced her. "Titan, register your serial designation; Kilo-Tango-zero-two-nine-eight."

_/ REGISTERING … COMPLETE /_

_{DESIG. KILO-TANGO—0298}_

"Designation registered," she replied after a moment.

"Repeat your designation back to me."

"I am Kilo-Tango-zero-two-nine-eight."

"That's right," he agreed, a small smile breaking out on his face. "Okay, Kilo-Tango, I'll be right back- I'm just going to grab the Captain and introduce the two of you."

She had no idea who this Captain was, but bowed her chassis anyway in compliance. He walked out of the area- what seemed to be a large mechanic's workshop, one with other Titans and engineers nearby- and disappeared down a connecting hall.

Kilo-Tango stood there awkwardly, wondering what all this was for. She'd only been alive for a few minutes now, but she had to say that she was enjoying it far more than non-existence. She could hear the tinkering of metal and machinery, she could see the hazy steam of heat in the room- and color! Oh, the color was magnificent! She hadn't even been aware of such a concept before, but now she saw how easily everything fit into its own nuanced category- that was brown, that was tan, that was grey, that was … well, evidently she wasn't exactly in the most vibrant of places.

Then she turned to look behind her, and found herself rooted to the spot. Awestruck, she rotated the rest of her body as she stood frozen.

A window, a large view-port that looked past the walls of this workshop, adorned the wall. And she saw a great blackness beyond it, one that stretched out into the barest reaches of infinity, just daring to touch the horizon of forever. But the blackness wasn't what intrigued her, no- it was the millions, billions, _trillions _of lights that winked in and out among it, like minuscule specks of color dotted intermittently across a shadowy canvas.

"Stars …" she whispered aloud, testing the word.

_Stars. _That's what she was seeing, stars. Wherever the blackness went, they followed- never allowing too much shadow to grow before they added a bit of light to it. Little beacons that called out to all who could see them, letting them know that there was more than just nothing out there-

"Kilo-Tango? Respond!"

She heard the same voice from before, and reluctantly turned away from the viewport. When she looked back, however, she saw that the engineer was accompanied by someone new- someone wearing garments that were outfitted for intense combat.

"Here she is, Captain. She just woke up, so some of her systems might still need to cycle through-"

"I'll handle it from here," the newcomer chuckled. "This isn't the first time I've met a new Titan." The man looked up at her, arms crossed. "Do you know what I am?"

"You are a Pilot," she answered, the information coming easily to her. "An infantry unit generally linked via neural connections to an AI within a Titan chassis."

"That's right," he confirmed. "Can you relay your protocols to me?"

She performed a search through her memory banks, an admittedly quick one given how empty they were, and found what he was asking of her.

"Protocol one: Link to Pilot."

"That's me now," he told her. "I am your Pilot- and you're my new Titan. Captain James Shears, you understand?"

"Yes, Captain Shears," she replied, "I understand."

"Good. Keep going, then."

"Protocol two: Uphold the mission," she obliged, then looked down at him. "What _is _the mission, Pilot?"

"To protect the frontier," he said immediately. "To help those who call it home, and to fight those who threaten that home. You're a freedom-fighter now, Kilo-Tango. Welcome to the Militia."

"Thank you," she said courteously, still unaware of many of the terms he was using- but she was starting to get it.

"The last one?"

"Protocol three: Protect the Pilot."

"That's right," he said, stepping closer. "You and I are a team now- you protect me, and I'll protect you." He paused. "The mission will always be priority number one, but I'll make sure that you're number two."

She liked this man- he was honest, and seemed to care deeply about those he was protecting. He would make a good Pilot.

"Understood, Pilot."

"Glad to hear it, KT."

* * *

_**A/N: Trying something new for the TAC universe here- might make a few one-shots every once in a while when I'm having writer's block. If I do, I'll post them here- or, if you guys have a specific story idea you'd like me to cover, give me some suggestions. I'm open.**_

_**\- Matteoarts**_


	2. A Drink to Forget

**— Two Days after the Tempest Event —**

With a clink that only he heard over the sounds of jubilance behind him, Tobias drained the contents of his drink and placed his now-empty glass on the bar.

Surprisingly, the bottom cracked and a fissure appeared which subsequently spread to the other sides of the glass, marring its otherwise perfect and clear surface. Perhaps he'd slammed it a little harder than he'd meant to. With a slightly delayed reaction due to the buzz he was finally starting to feel, he frowned and inspected the glass out of curiosity more than actual concern for the broken item.

It certainly wasn't the only broken thing around here, but it was infinitely more replaceable.

Celebrations over the Seed's demise had been running since a few hours after the announcement came that the Amalgamation had been stopped. In less than two days, the disturbing race of fleshy abominations had made appearances all over the frontier and begun to assimilate each colony's inhabitants. It was astounding how high of a body-count they'd racked up in such a short amount of time; he understood now how even an advanced race such as the Architects had fallen victim to the pestilence.

As the announcement quickly spread that the hell was over just about as quickly as it had begun, people began to show their joy in the best way that humans knew how; by getting shit-faced drunk and trying to forget the whole ordeal.

Originally, he hadn't had any intention of partaking in the galactic-wide party. He'd sat out near the array for a good hour or so, only moving when a retrieval team had come to collect him, Skids, and KT's remains. They'd tried to move her parts to the cargo bay for salvage and scrapping, not recognizing the significance of who she was. It was common for destroyed Titans to get broken down into individual components to make new ones, so they were reasonably startled when he'd held a gun on them and firmly told them that, in no uncertain terms, they weren't allowed to lay so much as a finger on her.

After alerting Gates, the acting commanding officer of the local Militia forces on Harmony, to the situation, she was quick to side with Tobias and work out a compromise. They let him keep the data-core, or what was left of it anyway. He knew that this was what KT truly was anyway, not so much the chassis she was put in- but it still pained him to see that blue and white paint of that Vanguard corpse disappear from view as it was hauled off.

Now, the core sat on his bed in the quarters that had been assigned to him temporarily until he was allowed off-world. Briggs and Graves had contacted the higher-ups here to personally let them know, based on his actions over the last few days and weeks, Four was now _Rear Admiral_ Four. As such, he was one of the highest ranking individuals in the Militia now, and the highest ranking officer on Harmony. He'd been given some proper quarters to accommodate himself while he oversaw the reconstruction efforts on Harmony.

He didn't care about the promotion other than the quarters; all he wanted was privacy, and they provided exactly that. But everything else was white noise to him nowadays, unimportant and generally just static to his grieving mind.

He wasn't ashamed to say that he'd spent last night clutching the core as he fell asleep, tears silently streaming down his face as he tried to force himself to enter blissful oblivion. But there was no point; when he was awake, his sorrow kept him up for hours thinking about her, and when he did manage to fall asleep, his dreams were always punctuated by nightmares of the Amalgamates.

He wasn't going to go through that again, so he was here at a relatively intact bar where soldiers of IMC and Militia alike had flocked to for celebration. If he was going to get any rest without the image of Kay or an Amalgamate staring back soullessly at him, he was going to need to be wasted.

As far as he knew, the bar hadn't been empty since the celebration started. It was certainly in much better condition than other establishments around town, only suffering broken windows and some superficial damage inside. Dust was scattered all over the floor, but nobody cared. The air was filled with the sounds of those happy to be alive, grateful to have survived the ordeal. Fortunately, despite everyone now knowing that 'Pilot Four' was the reason for their salvation, nobody knew what he looked like and so he was mercifully left alone to his own devices.

At least, he had been- but with the person stumbling over to the wobbly bar stool next to him, he suspected that his solitude was about to be cut short.

At first, he thought it was Gates- she'd tried to contact him several times yesterday, but he'd chosen to ignore her messages- but that wasn't the case. The man's salt-and-pepper hair was longer than regulation generally allowed, but not apparently enough of a problem for anyone to confront him about it. His face held a familiar bliss expression that Tobias had come to associate with inebriation, though his features twisted themselves into curiosity when he analyzed Tobias a little closer. He sighed, preparing to leave once he was recognized-

"Wha' happened to your glass?"

At first, he didn't know what the man was talking about. Then he realized that they were referring to the broken glass on the counter in front of him. "Oh. Uh-"

"Can' have my frien' here without a drink! 'Issa celebration!"

Turning to the volunteer who'd taken over as the temporary bartender, he waved him over. " Hey! 'Nother glass for my frien' here!" The slurring in his words was bad, but not quite to the point where his request fell on deaf ears. After a few seconds, a newly filled glass slid into position in front of Tobias.

He glanced at the man who cheerfully stared back at him. "… Thanks."

"Not a problem."

He raised an eyebrow at the sudden clarity in the new arrival's speech, much to the latter's enjoyment.

"What, you think an old guy like me hasn't learned how to hold his liquor? Please kid, I could probably drink this whole damn bar and walk away without so much as a buzz." He sighed, leaning back. "Both an advantage and a curse of becoming tolerant of this stuff."

"Why the act, then?" questioned Tobias.

"Because I'm not as much of a people-person as others like to make me out to be, and I've found that the best way to avoid attention is to be an annoying drunk. Everyone either ignores you or tells you to shove off."

"If you're trying to avoid people, then why-"

"-why come over here?" he cut in, chuckling lightly. "I know the look of someone who's been beaten down, even without the fact that their hands are twitching so much that they break their glass."

In confusion, Tobias looked at his right hand to see that the newcomer was right; it wouldn't stop shaking from stress. Clenching his jaw, he set it back on the counter.

"I know why I get drunk- or at least why I used to, now it's more of a habit than anything. I drink to forget, to help myself move on. And I know that's not something unique to me, so I'm guessing you have a reason somewhere along those lines?"

Tobias said nothing, unwilling to admit just how close to the mark the man was.

"Lost someone?"

"Why do you care?" he snapped back, hoping to intimidate the guy back into silence. Surprisingly, it seemed like he'd been expecting it.

"Because I've lost people too," he said with a shrug. "You don't get to my state of alcohol tolerance without a _lot _of drinking, and a _lot_ of forgetting."

"And who are you?" Tobias challenged, though he knew his argument was losing ground.

"Robert Taube, at your service," he introduced himself with a mock flourish. "Friends call me Barker, but you and I aren't quite there yet. Though I guess I did refer to you as one to the bartender-"

"What are you doing here?" asked Tobias, his curiosity now piqued.

"What am I doing on Harmony? I mean, the fleets were moved here to protect and oversee all evacuees. Of course, it was a bad stroke of luck that this also happened to be the array world- or maybe it was a good one, considering that we needed every bit of firepower here to survive. Oh well."

Barker faced him again. "As for why I'm in the bar, it's the same as everyone else- celebrating that I'm alive, remembering the ones that I've lost."

"I thought you said you drink to forget?" Tobias pointed out, confused at the seemingly instant change of premise.

"Not people," Barker retorted, "the _pain_. I drink to numb the pain and help myself move on piece by pice- but not people. Never people. I'm not usually one for meaningful advice, but I will tell you this, kid; trying to forget someone's death is just a dishonor to them."

He grabbed his own glass, emptying the contents into a flask he brought with him for later, and then signaling the bartender for another drink. "They put their lives on the line, even gave them for the greater good. No sacrifice like that should ever be forgotten. And so long as you keep a piece of them alive in your memory … then they're never really gone, are they?"

Tobias said nothing, too surprised by the man's sudden bout of philosophical thinking to speak. But as he sat there processing what Barker had said, he felt the weight of his words resonate with him like a truth that he'd known, but had been unwilling to accept.

KT was dead. But the last thing she'd want him to be doing was to stagnate and let her death hold him back. His grief wasn't going to return her to life, nothing would- but maybe he could honor her memory by cherishing the time that they'd had rather than focusing on the time that they'd lost.

Slowly, he held up his glass to toast Barker. The other man brought his own glass into contact enthusiastically, and they drank to the memory of all those who had fallen.

Reaching over, Barker gave him a solid pat on the back. "I hope something I said ends up helping you, however little that may be. I'll see you around, Four."

He stood up and left the bar with his flask of stolen whisky, Tobias nodding respectfully at him as he left.

Funny. Faintly through the buzz that the alcohol was giving him, he realized that he'd never told Barker his name. 

* * *

**A/N: This was an old story I wrote that I've touched up a little and put here for y'alls' pleasure. Not sure if it still fits in the canon anymore, but I thought you guys might like it.**


End file.
